


Ones That Will Never Be

by HomicidalCarTire



Category: Life
Genre: Anxiety, Issues Related to Depression, Other, Some sad stuff, eating issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13203273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomicidalCarTire/pseuds/HomicidalCarTire
Summary: Just things I've written that (probably) won't be turned into a full on story.





	1. Preface

 

A while ago I really really wanted to write stories.

I mean, I still do... but the passion is gone, I feel like. So, I now have notebooks filled with little snippets and such of things that possibly could've turned into  _something._

But no.

Most of these little ideas I just don't see myself adding to but there's enough of them there to  _hint_ at a story so I decided to write them somewhere a bit more permanent and accessible than those old journals and notebooks.

 

I know that's a run on but it's late and tomorrow's New Year's Eve... so it'll have to do for now.


	2. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something fourteen (possibly fifteen) year old me thought about a lot so I wrote it down.

She had overestimated their love.

She had thought that their concern for her would bring them and that they would finally understand. Finally offer her the help that she needed. The help they, as parents, should've given her three years ago.

But no.

By the time they entered the room, it was already nearing nine o'clock. And they had come to sleep, for her room was the only one which offered comfortable sleeping conditions. After several minutes of yelling and cursing her to open the door, their sheer anger had broken it open. But by then it was too late.

As they looked towards her bed they saw not her body, but all their mistakes, their regrets, their failure.

And spilling out of the bottle by her side was their overwhelming guilt. Each pill was a knife, piercing their hearts. Each one missing, a reminder of what they could have done.

But nothing could've compensated for what they had done.

If she had waited another hour, then perhaps...

No.

For her it wouldn't have made any difference.

The people she knew to be her parents wouldn't've cared. They would've simply cast it aside as one of her many methods of making their lives miserable.

Among the improper eating habits and constant state of unhappiness- an attempted suicide.

In all her accused dramatic acts of attention seeking, the only one that was perhaps a bit drastic for a first, did its job.

But in the process, she had accidentally killed herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably written after a breakdown of some sort.


	3. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical Monday during ninth grade. Written while I was in ninth grade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that some of these are random miscellaneous pieces, while others are chapters and bits of something that was supposed to come together with a plot that some how joined all of them.  
> The chapters and bits, I have. The plot... not so much. So they've ended up here.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

**5:30 a.m.**

Roll over. Unplug phone. Check Instagram.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

**5:57 a.m.**

Roll out of bed. Put on glasses. Grab water bottle and phone. Go downstairs.

Drink some water. Put the bottle in fridge. Put playlist on shuffle. Go into the bathroom.

Brush teeth. Wash face. Go upstairs.

**6:15 a.m.**

Get dressed.

Under gown. Socks. Shoes. Dress. Tie.

**6:35 a.m.**

Braid hair. Ribbons. A thin coat of dark purple lipstick.

**6:50 a.m.**

Eat a banana.

Turn off music.

Grab backpack.

Get in car.

**6:57 a.m.**

Control the anxiety.

 

* * *

 

_Riiiiing._

**1:30 p.m.**

Put on backpack.

Walk downstairs.

Find partner. Get in line. Exit the grounds.

Locate car.

Throw backpack in the back. Sit in the passenger's seat. Seat belt.

**1:37 p.m.**

Look for  _her._

Listen to Dad and his attempts to be funny. Smile because you love him. Stop at red light.

0:76 left on the timer. Every. Single. Time.

Stop at the primary.

**1:48 p.m.**

"I call the bathroom first."

"Nope. I called it first."

Let her use the bathroom first because it makes her happy.

**2:03 p.m.**

Ignore the anxiety.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday:  
> Repeat.


End file.
